Finding Forgiveness
by just-normal
Summary: A little oneshot drabble depicting a possible scenario between Jack and Elizabeth after the big battle in At World's End. Elizabeth has her guard up so high... is it possible for her to let it down to anyone?


_**Finding Forgiveness**_

When her body was finally pulled to the surface, the water was unnaturally still. Considering the maelstrom that had devastated ship after ship the night before, these miniscule swells seemed out of place. They lapped up against her skin, the salt stinging her cuts and scrapes. Her tired eyes strained to open, but shut again with the infiltration of bright yellow sunlight.

_Up is down. Sunrise sets. Flash of green. _

She could feel patches of her skin being warmed and dried by the sun; the water receding off her as the part of her body that was above the water rose and sunk- not with the movement of the waves, mind, but with the struggles of another body attempting to carry her. A hand wrapped itself under her arm and clung firmly to her shoulder. Another splashed her as it flailed in what could be called "treading".

"Almost there, love," she heard a familiar voice call out. She took a deep, labored breath in, and leaned her head into the crook of the figure's neck. "Hold on, Lizzie!"

Slowly, she let the light fade from beyond her eyelids, and fell into a new world unlike anything in our own.

_I've always wanted to discover my own country_, she thought as she completely succumbed to it.

----

Well, it would turn out she wasn't quite the adventurer she thought herself. It wasn't a very pleasant world to live in, anyways. 

With a deep sigh, she awoke. Not being ignorant of the raw feeling in her lungs, her body tensed and she coughed up dry air. Clutching instinctively to the sheets beneath her, she realized that she was not in one of the makeshift hammocks below deck. Eyes sliding open a crack, what she saw confirmed her speculation. Forgetting her pain in a moment of surprise, she sat up and clutched the sheets to her chest, eyes darting every-which-way to make sure that she had no spectators. Reassured that she absolutely did not, she winced as she held a hand to her side, where a Dutchman sword had produced a rather unsightly scar beneath her clothes. 

Mentioning clothes, it seemed all her fine Asian armor had been stripped. She felt naked in the little green smock that remained. Scanning the room, she found the armor lying on a chair on the other side. Slowly, carefully, she climbed out of the bed and crept over to the chair, shielding her still-sensitive eyes from the sunlight that filtered through the large windows. As she lifted the shoulder armor from its place atop the chair, she contemplated its effect on her current state. Opting to try it anyway, she slid it over her head, and winced as it weighed down on her shoulders. Attempting to fasten the leather straps only inspired her more that this was a bad idea. Instead, she grabbed the short-pants and her mud-caked boots, donned them for the sake of decency and function, and headed toward the door. 

As she pulled open the double-doors, the sun bombarded her and she quickly raised a hand to shield her eyes. When she finally squinted past the glare of the sun, she could see what looked like a calm deck. There was very little activity; though Marty still maintained his position atop the Crow's Nest and Cotton handled the wheel. The sails billowed gently in the same warm breeze that tousled her matted but still golden locks. Contemplatively she stepped toward the rail, taking in the whisper of the waves and the cloudless sky.

"Glad to see you up and about, love; s'time I got my cabin back to myself."

Elizabeth jumped at the sound, turning to see that particular smirk staring back at her.

"Jack!" she cried, taking a moment to steady her heart. "Where's the rest of the crew?"

"Below deck, gambling away their life's savings. Not that I don't find that terribly interesting, but it was my shift to check on the lady," he explained, and she gave an understanding nod. "Being that you are the lady, of course."

"I know that, Jack."

"You never know, love. We may have gone and picked up Anamaria from Tortuga, with all the time you spent wandering in dreamland. I hope you brought souvenirs," he quipped, earning a foul glare. "No? Well, then, my crew will be very disappointed."

Elizabeth turned back to her position at the rail with a smirk. She didn't move to protest when he came up beside her, hands dangling over the edge and in the wind. Suddenly a flicker of memory from the battle inspired a thought. She peered along the side of the Pearl, beyond its rear, and then craned her neck to see from the other side.

"Jack, where is my crew? My ship?"

"They're long gone, love. Off and sailed into the horizon." 

Elizabeth froze, eyes wide.

"Gone?"

"Yes, they're all gone."

"But _why is my ship gone_?"

Jack snapped his fingers and pointed.

"Ah, now you know what it's like, eh?"

Elizabeth scowled, expression dropping into something like disapproval.

"Unlike rum, a ship actually serves a valuable purpose," she countered, glaring at him challengingly.

"I might argue that."

"I thought you might." 

There was a pause as Elizabeth slowly settled back into her position at the rail.

"If it bothers you not knowing, Tai what's-his-name-from-what's-that-place is safely sailing them all to Tortuga. You can reclaim it when we get there, if he'll let you," Jack finally explained. "Though, give the old chap a few swigs of Tortugan rum, and he might just surrender it to you."

She sighed, her body reminding her of the cause of such soreness and tire, but relieved that her crew was in good hands. She wasn't entirely sure if she could trust Tai Huang, but at least The Empress wasn't at the bottom of the ocean in pieces.

"Jack, we didn't… did we?"

"Well if you're referring to your compromising position in my cabin, then no… sadly." A glare.

"I meant the battle, Jack. I mean… we're not dead, so we mustn't have…"

"In that case, no. We didn't. We've got clear sailing for now," he explained, his expression darkening. Elizabeth didn't fail to notice. 

"And… Will?"

She was afraid to ask. Something went off in Jack, however. He found his tongue tied and mouth glued shut as he turned away from the rail to approach the opposite side. Elizabeth hesitated before pursuing an answer.

"Jack… what happened to Will?"

"You don't want to know, love," he replied lowly. Her vision blurred as she gritted her teeth and repeated the question, one word at a time. "I told you, you don't want to know."

"Well what if I do want to know, Jack?" she cried out, causing Marty to peer down from the crow's nest. Jack peered over his shoulder ever so slightly, eyes downcast.

"Well then that's just too bad, darling, because I'm not going to tell you."

She grabbed him by the shoulder and swung him around to face her, eyes burning with tears now. His eyes flew wide open, his brow furrowed with the weight of apprehension.

"You are going to tell me what happened to Will, or else…" she gritted, hand fumbling about for some kind of weapon. Upon finding none, she shook him a little and grunted in frustration. His expression remained the same, unafraid of her wrath; at least in comparison to the fear he felt about informing her.

"Darling, I…" 

He didn't need to finish. She held his gaze for a moment, letting the realization sink in.

_Sunrise sets. Flash of green.  
_

When the Dutchman had capsized with her and Will on it, she had been the first to climb her way to the surface. Upon seeing nothing, she plunged herself into the depths. The trail of crust and seaweed that the infamous ship left behind was unmistakable. She was determined to rescue her lover, no matter how far away the surface became. Her heavy armor only made it easier for her to sink further and further down, and though her vision was fading and the trail of the Dutchman lost, she kept swimming. She kept swimming until all went dark, and a new vision invaded her eyes.

Well, it wasn't entirely new; it was entirely too familiar, in fact. The volcanic rock and white sand beaches made her heart sink. All of a sudden, she'd heard a voice calling her name, and just down the beach stood Will Turner. She had embraced him, but he didn't return the gesture, seemingly occupied by another detail. He had been silent at first, but then he explained that his life was bound to the Dutchman now, and that he couldn't let her stay in the Locker forever… let alone a single day. It was a torture chamber for the mind, he'd explained. He had said a few things that didn't make sense, but she couldn't remember what they were. Before long, and after a brief moment of farewell, the sun had set and the green flash had taken her back to her watery grave. Or at least it would have been, had it not been for Jack.

Jack…

"_You _were supposed to stab the heart, Jack!" she cried out, letting her moment of vulnerability subside and letting her anger return. "It was supposed to be you!"

"Darling, I wish I could explain…"

"Don't try to explain to me. I don't need your manipulation; you were just being regular old selfish Jack, weren't you? Giving everyone else the trouble for things that _you've_ done! I've had enough!"

She pounded at his chest with this last word.

"Well if you would bloody give me a chance!" he cried out.

"No, Jack, I've given you chances, and I'm _tired_."

"When have you ever given me a chance?" 

"I trusted that you were going to make sure that Will was alright! I trusted you, Jack!"

"And believe me, darling, I trusted myself about as much as you did, but…"

"No buts, Jack! Will is _gone_ and it's _your _fault."

Jack staggered backwards. For a moment, Elizabeth reconsidered her words, but decided to stand on the ground she'd chosen. Chest heaving, she turned away from him and crossed her arms firmly against her chest. Jack considered his words carefully before he dared break the silence.

"He was going to die, Lizzie. He'd been wounded, slashed clear across the chest, and once he'd fallen, he wasn't getting up."

He paused to see if she was reacting in a way that should hinder him from continuing. Her face remained cold. Her lips quivered every once in a while, shoulders twitching, but otherwise she seemed to be off the warpath. 

"I don't know what you think I think about the whelp, Lizzie, but more often than not, I'm rather fond of the boy," he continued. "I managed to work my way towards him, and offered him the heart. In a way, Lizzie, it was his choice. He stabbed the heart. He chose that life, and I did nothing but offer it to him."

Silence.

"Jack…"

There was no anger in her tone; no bitterness that would have suggested that her wrath was building once more. It was hushed, scared, and confused. He took this as his cue to move from his frozen position a safe distance away. As he drew nearer to her, she turned slowly to face him, and fell into him with a cry.

Hesitantly, instinctively looking around to see if anyone was paying attention to this little scene, he wrapped his arms around her protectively.

"I'm sorry, love," he whispered. Her tears were beginning to soak through his linen shirt, and he gently caressed her hair. "Shh, darling. I'm so sorry."

She clutched to him with everything she had, not caring that a moment ago, she had _hated_ him with everything she had. But the words of Captain William Turner began to return to her…

_He's a good man, Elizabeth. He'll take care of you._

He hadn't said whom, but now she couldn't imagine it to be anyone else. 


End file.
